42. A fearless girls who guides

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*long chapter ahead, I hope you don't mind

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*long chapter ahead, I hope you don't mind.*

"I'm not going with you", I repeat for the thousand time to the people who provided me with life. "How many times do I have to tell you? No, I'm not going. Or do you want to hear it in Japanese since you have spent there more time than at home? I'm sorry, but your son unlike you doesn't speak Japanese, and he has never visited it because you care more about yourself than you care about your own son. But I can tell you in Spanish", I say when they open their mouth and I imitate my favorite actor and for sure one of my favorite shows- Teen Wolf and the amazing Dylan O'Brien.

I stare at my parents as they stare back at me, my mom playing with the pearls that decorate her neck and dad is knitting his brows while scratching his neatly sharped and shaved beard. I don't want to talk about their expensive clothes that probably their styles picked for them to match, the perfect black cocktail dress and black suit, while I'm the only one in the sweatpants and sweater because I have just come back from my practice only to find them here ready to ruin my day. I stare at their clothes a little more since it's the only way to distract myself and avoid their stern gazes.

Mom's dress is black and tight, the cleavage showing her bobs enough to tease you, but still covering the most important parts while it comes under her knees, covering them, too. She never really liked her knees, anyway. As if she can sense me ogling them, she crosses her legs with the pair of extremely high black heels that are simple with shiny straps that are wrapped around her calves. But trust me when I say, they probably cost a fortune even though I bet you can find the same pair in the shop across the street.

Dad on the other hand is, as well dressed in a black suit, matching the color of his wife's outfit. The thing that screams fortune on him is the clock resting on his left wrist, which he keeps twirling and checking as if he is late for one of his famous meetings, where he spends the whole time of his life, leaving his son alone in the lonely house where he has started to talk with ghosts and drowning in alcohol that keeps appearing even though he consumes it all, always at the same place, the bottles are never empty, always calling him over and over again.

"You are being ungrateful!", dad spits and I roll my eyes. I was waiting for him to say this. It was just a matter of time.

He keeps telling me this all the time, whenever he has a chance, whenever he's home. Thank God he's rarely here.

"We do everything for you! Everything! And the only thing we ask you to do for us is to come to our foundations raiser and take some pictures with us since we are donating it like a family, and you...", he can't finish because I growl since I can't control it anymore.

"Like a family? Like a family?", I chuckle nervously. "Seriously? You two are never home I don't see you for months, I live alone with Bartman as if he gave birth to me and not you!" I point at mom who bounces back in the leather armchair slightly, her hand on her chest, showing shock at my words, her nails scream power and elegance.

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